


Not Again

by AdoreAdore54



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Spoilers, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdoreAdore54/pseuds/AdoreAdore54
Summary: INFINITY WAR SPOILERS!A peek into Steve's mind during one particular moment in Infinity War.(More detailed - and spoilery - summary inside.)





	Not Again

**Author's Note:**

> INFINITY WAR SPOILERS BELOW.
> 
>  
> 
> **PLEASE DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU'VE NOT SEEN THE FILM YET.**
> 
>  
> 
> \--
> 
> This is just something I wrote immediately after watching the film, because apparently I'm a masochist.
> 
> I just wanted to know what was going on in Steve's head at the end of the film. You know, at _that_ moment. So here's my take. 
> 
> It's not a happy take.
> 
>  **WARNING:** There is death in this (obviously), but it's not in the warnings because spoilers.

“Steve?"

Steve feels his insides go cold at his name; the tiny, broken voice it’s uttered in managing to pierce his heart even over the noise of the battle.

And though the fight’s not over, though he knows he should be focussing his attention on the battle, his instinct to protect the man who means the world to him, the man who he would protect with his life, outweighs any other thought, and he turns in the direction his name came from.

And he’s in a nightmare.

Every bad dream he's ever had that’s left him waking, sweating and screaming, in the night, every worst-case-scenario he’s ever thought of, every fear deep within him is eclipsed by the reality of what’s happening in front of him.

He freezes, legs rooted to the spot, eyes locked on the scene in front of him. The sight of his best friend, his partner, his everything, his _Bucky_ literally disappearing before his eyes.

No.

 _No_.

Not again. Not after all they’ve been through. Not when they were so close to finding some form of closure, of peace. 

He forces his legs into action and he’s running. Stretching out a hand to reach, to hold, to anchor. To save.

And he’s so close. So close to grasping on, to never letting go. Not again. Not again.

He’s close enough to see the terror in Bucky’s eyes. Those cool blue-grey eyes that Steve’s as familiar with as his own. Steve’s been able to read Bucky’s expressions from the slightest creasing or narrowing of his eyes for as long as he can remember; even when Bucky didn’t know who he was, his eyes revealed what was going through his head.

But he’s never seen them like this. Reflected back at him is fear, confusion, hurt, and, under it all, hope. Hope that Steve will save him. That he’ll know what to do.

Steve has no idea how to stop this, but he knows he has to. _He has to_. So he reaches for him. Closes the gap. Grasps for Bucky’s arm.

Too late.

His hand closes around nothing but ash and air.

He wants to shout, to call for Bucky, to say something before he loses him, but no sound comes.

And Bucky is gone.

 _Not again not again not again_.

He falls to his knees and touches the ground where, seconds before, the most important person in the world was standing. Now there is only dust.

 _This can’t be – it isn’t – this wasn’t -_.

Bucky. 

Steve should have _done_ something. He shouldn’t have let Bucky be here. Bucky was tired and hurt and still healing, and deserved time to rest, but Steve had let him back into the fight, had _wanted_ him back in the fight, by his side. Just like old times.

Just like old times. 

Just like old times, he wasn’t quick enough. He couldn’t reach. He couldn’t pull him back from the void.

No no no no.

He can’t hold himself up. Doesn’t even have the strength to keep his head up and he collapses further towards the ground, his head in his hands.

He expects tears to come, but finds that there are none. He’s empty. No voice, no tears, no feeling. Just… nothing. He’s a shell.

Whatever there was left of Steve Rogers had been ripped from him when Bucky disappeared.

When Bucky - When Bucky - When - 

_Not again_.

Please.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm broken and hurt thanks to this film (can you tell?!).


End file.
